


Roulette

by Kosho, SBlackmane



Category: Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Inquisition, Final Fantasy XIV, Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Dubious Morality, First Time, Forbidden Love, Gay Sex, Late at Night, Love Confessions, M/M, Mage/Templar Affair, Marriage Proposal, Mildly Dubious Consent, Outdoor Sex, Secret Relationship, Semi-Public Sex, Shower Sex, Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-14
Updated: 2018-10-13
Packaged: 2018-12-29 18:52:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 15,789
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12091236
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kosho/pseuds/Kosho, https://archiveofourown.org/users/SBlackmane/pseuds/SBlackmane
Summary: A collection of one-shots with various fandoms and pairings.





	1. Arvin x Lyr (M/M)

“Arvin and Lyr, here for the Sultana’s gala.” The guard at the door announced. 

 

Arvin glanced down at Lyr, nodding for him to go in first. Lyr was actually from Ul’dah. The only reason anyone was extending him an invitation to something this fancy was as a plus one. The uncomfortable gazes fixed on him served to remind him he wasn't even trusted as that. Unsurprising. Au Ra were looked at with suspicion regardless of where they went. It made him wish he'd just been born further away. Maybe Doma. 

 

“Relax, Arvin. These people hold no sway over the Sultana’s opinions. Those men weren't invited.” Lyr told him. 

 

He nodded, not one for conversation, even with him. This place was gigantic, ornate, unlike anything he'd seen outside of Ishgard. His tail waved slowly, mildly taken aback when a well dressed servant offered him a glass, some curiously colored drink inside. He nodded his thanks, drinking it down quickly. The man stared at him like he'd just done something unusual. Blinking, he refilled the glass, shuffling away in a polite hurry. Finishing it off, he set it on a table. Well, Lyr was nowhere to be seen. Perfect, if he didn't find him soon, he'd probably be tossed out. Sighing to himself, he vanished in the shadows, his best chance to look around and try to find him. He knew his scent, the sound of his breathing half a room away, but whatever he had drank was the only thing he could smell at the moment. Frowning, he opened the doors, peering in. Most were packed, people gathered to enjoy music and talk. At the end of the hall, he found a dark room, barely able to make out an outline. 

 

“Took you long enough, Arvin.” Lyr said. 

 

“You were waiting for me?” he asked quietly. 

 

“Sure was. Close the door.” Lyr purred. 

 

Arvin waved his tail slowly, closing it behind him. Lyr gestured to it again, and he locked it. Probably not the best idea. This wasn't a place to be alone like this, and locking the door might get him in trouble. Not Lyr, it would be him that got in trouble for this. Sighing again, he crossed the dark room, making the least graceful sound when he was pulled downward. The difference between them was obvious like this. Not much, around two fulms, maybe, but it made him feel strange. Lyr grabbed his tail, yanking it playfully. 

 

“Not here. We shouldn't.” He said. 

 

Arvin regretted him discovering what that did. It was impossible not to react to it, but this definitely wasn't the right place. Lyr pulled him closer, biting his lips roughly. His hands slid under his pants, his claws raking over his hips. Menphina save him, this was the worst idea. Lyr grabbed the edges of his vest, pulling it off. Breaking the kiss, he nipped down his neck, his rough tongue sweeping down his chest. His sharp teeth scraped red trails on his skin, not enough to bleed, but enough to leave marks. Arvin scraped his shoulders, groaning at the slight ache his nails and teeth incited. 

 

“Have I changed your mind?” Lyr asked. 

 

He didn't wait for a reply, untying his bottoms. They slid down his hips, and Arvin frowned. He wasn't going to give up on this idea. Rolling to the side, he yanked them off, abandoning then somewhere on the floor. Lyr liked instigating matters, though that was largely the extent of his desire to control what happened. Arvin moved so his back was to the wall, reaching for him. Lyr crawled over to him, reaching for his pack, buried among the discarded clothes. Thankfully Ul’dah was a desert city-state, discarding his garments while he waited wasn't as chilly as it was back in Ishgard. Lyr tossed a small jar to him, straddling his lap, affectionately tending the marks he'd left with soft kisses. Paying him back, he gripped his fluffy tail, yanking enough to get his hips up. Lyr hissed grumpily, staring up at him. 

 

“Mind your nails this time.” He complained.  

 

Arvin shrugged. “You could do it then. I'm sure you can put your little razors away, right, kitten?” 

 

“You know I hate that name, right?” he huffed. 

 

“Exactly why I say it.” He said with a smirk. 

 

Moments from arguing it, he groaned instead, two of his lengthy digits forced in, almost painless thanks to the generous amount of oil he used, though not quite completely so. Twelve, how could he forget going undetected and being stealthy was pretty much his whole deal. He always fell for that. Lyr yanked the jar away, ears flicking petulantly, his touch gentle, unwilling to hurt him if he could help it. Arvin’s eyes closed, distracted for a few seconds, adding in another finger. Good chance that it might not be enough, but Lyr knew well enough what he was getting into. He must have been nervous about being in here too. Usually he was more interested in taking his time, but it definitely seemed he was in a hurry this time. Lyr nipped at his throat gently, his signal he was getting impatient.  Sooner than usual, but he wasn't complaining just this once. Arvin slid his fingers out, definitely good enough from the obscenely wet sound alone. Others might not have heard it at all, but they both had exceptional hearing by virtue of their respective races. Auri folk tended to have slightly better hearing, but nothing beat Lyr’s sense of smell. He once watched him run off on his own because he smelled a steak several hundred fulms away. He didn't envy him that. Ul’dah, in his experience, smelled awful. Mostly out in the desert. He grabbed his hips firmly, slow to guide him down. Lyr usually liked to take over once he was down. His nails dug into his shoulders, warm little trickles of blood slowly rolling down his skin. 

 

“ _ Fuck…”  _ he growled. 

 

“Sorry.” Lyr gasped, his expression saying he absolutely wasn't.  

 

Arvin let go, letting him sink down the rest of the way. He whimpered, glaring at him in a way that said he'd get him back for it later. Lyr shifted side to side, trying to alleviate his discomfort. His ears perked up, glancing at the door, rocking against him slowly. They should hurry, but he couldn't just start at intense, he still had to build up to it. It wasn't exactly easy to ride him on the best of days as it was. Arvin’s white-grey eyes fell to the door, red rings thinning as his pupils dilated. 

 

“You can be mad at me later.” Arvin rumbled. 

 

He stopped him, lifting off, though Lyr was reluctant to let go. He already knew where he was going with this. Arvin pushed him on his back, holding his ankles wide apart. Leaning over him, he let go, nearly folded in half. Thank the Twelve he was relatively flexible or he'd feel that in the morning. Arvin pinned him down with his weight, nearly slamming back in. He's complain about how reckless he was, but he always had a way of fucking every last thought from his mind.  Lyr clenched his wrists in a vice grip, the hard flooring under him offering little protection against being ground into it. Mostly his shoulders took the worst of it, not a big problem since he didn't have to concern himself with heavy weapons. Arvin shifted his weight to one side, shaking his arm free of his grip like it was nothing, holding his head so he wouldn't hurt it. 

 

Lyr’s violet eyes squeezed shut, his free hand struggling in the tight space. He hadn't just been waiting for him, after all. Fuck he was so close, but it was hard to get a good rhythm like this, and he suspected his lover knew that. Arvin couldn't be too far behind, this was his speed position, the one he went for if they didn't have a lot of time. He bit his lip, trying to be quiet about it. This wasn't the first time he'd chosen a less than private place, and he knew the drill. He couldn't be as loud as he could at home. Forcing his knees to his chest, Arvin closed the gap, his mouth opening for him, the heat of his tongue, and the expert way he kissed him was plenty distracting. His cries muffled safely, almost unchecked when he came, angled just right to keep it pooled on his stomach. Lyr squirmed, the only way he could try to remind him they technically weren't alone.  He had to really be concerned now, purposely squeezing his cock tighter now, his ears twitching faster, the way they usually did if he heard something that concerned him. Lyr would be the one to suffer the most, the rough granite flooring was probably already scraping his back up good. Groaning quietly, he snapped against him harder, that last little bit he needed. Lyr whined, squirming under him. He vaguely recalled the warmth felt strange to him, made sense. His body already ran about ten degrees hotter than his normally, it probably was a little uncomfortable.  Arvin broke away from him, his breathing highly controlled and quiet. He let him down slowly, assuming he might be sore and need a few moments. Lyr scrambled to gather their clothes, tossing his at his head while he hurried to get dressed. Funny how this was his idea and he was the one panicking now. Arvin sighed, getting dressed as quickly as he could, helping him off the floor when he finished. 

 

“I do hope you're satisfied.” He murmured.  

 

“Doesn't look like we made much of a mess, I'm pleased.” Lyr replied with a shrug. 

 

Such a casual answer was betrayed by the barely controlled smirk on his face. He absolutely looked like the cat that ate the canary. Thankfully Hyur and Lalafell weren't as gifted in the senses or it would be only too obvious what they were doing. 

 

“Nanamo is probably looking for me. We should go.” He said. 

 

“Yes. Looking for you.” Arvin said With a small smile. 

 

Lyr was the one everyone wanted to see. That left him free to disappear into the safety of the shadows and pilfer snacks as he pleased. As long as no one saw him, he wasn't really concerned. Besides, once they got back home, he'd be the one getting all the attention from his pussycat.  


	2. Ren Trevelyan/Knight-Captain Alec Cain (M/M)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (Fandom: Dragon Age) A random encounter with Commander Cullen reminds Ren of his past affair with the Knight-Captain of Ostwick's Circle, and he reflects on their first time together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (This is an excerpt from an upcoming fic I've been working on that I will post on my main pseud once complete. Thought I'd share it here.)

_"What are you doing in here?" Cullen had asked, when he caught him in the dungeon below the Chantry, making Ren jump in surprise, then scramble to his feet, the book in his lap toppling to the floor._

_He backed away from the Commander fearfully._

_"I'm so sorry, sir! I didn't know I wasn't supposed to be in here," he rushed to say, and Cullen gaped in the doorway._

_His golden eyes passed over Ren's short, slender form for a split second, soaking in his appearance, his jet black hair, his Lyrium blue eyes, and the fear in them._

_"Maker's breath," he said, smearing a hand across his face. "No I-I didn't mean to say you... I just-just meant that..." He floundered for a moment, hand leaving the hilt of his sword where it so often rested, and both hands raised in defense. "Please, I only meant to inquire as to why you were down here. Alone. That's all. I didn't mean to make you think you shouldn't...that you shouldn't be here. It isn't..."_

_Recognition clicked in Ren's mind, and he relaxed a little. He was just so used to having a Templar hovering over him still, like back in the Circle, demanding he explain why he was up past curfew, or in a place he was allowed to be. He let out a sigh._

_"You...never left the Circle before the Conclave, had you?" Cullen asked..._

* * *

Ren still lay awake that night, thinking about that encounter with the handsome Commander of the Inquisition. He was so embarrassed, the way he'd spooked so easily, flashing back to his Circle days. He tossed and turned as he mulled it over and over in his head. Commander Cullen rather reminded him of someone. Someone he knew once, and might have even come to love. Someone he was better off forgetting.

 _Knight-Captain Alec_.

Ren knew at an early age that he was different than other boys. At a time when many apprentices his age were becoming curious about girls, he wasn't. He'd had far more interest in the other boys. He didn't need any sort of explanation, it was very clear what fantasizing about intimacy with other boys instead of girls meant to Ren. Though it concerned him. He knew why engaging in intimate activities was forbidden.

But would the Maker be upset with him if he commited these acts with other boys?

His first experience with one happened rather tentatively. He'd befriended a fellow by the name of Fredric, two years older than him, sixteen, as Ren had been fourteen at the time. They studied together, and Fredric had an interest in a girl named Anesia, an interest Ren didn't share. Fredric was rather handsome, with curly brown hair and sparkling blue eyes, and dimples in his cheeks when he smiled.

One day they had been talking, mostly about Anesia, and how she didn't seem to like Fredric all that well. Even if they could be together, she didn't feel the same about him and he was disappointed. But Ren wasn't. He finally worked up the courage to admit to Fredric that he liked him, in a sort of way that was more than friendship, expecting the boy to be offended. But he wasn't. Fredric was curious too.

They'd shared a kiss, but that's all it was destined to be. The very next day, he spied Fredric in the library with Anesia, pressing her up against a bookshelf, faces locked in a passionate kiss. She finally gave in, and returned Fredric's affections, and Ren didn't know how to feel about that. Offended, yes, but he knew he couldn't be jealous, not really. None of them were supposed to be together. So he walked away, and never confronted Fredric.

It was hardly a concern anyway. Not long after that, Fredric and Anesia were caught together by someone else, and it was quite the scandal for the longest time. Fredric blamed Ren for it, thinking he'd betrayed him, and the two never spoke again after that. It would be two long years before another would take interest in Ren. But at the turbulent age of sixteen, yet another would garner his affections.

Ailen was elven, from the city, and beautiful. Fourteen, the age Ren had been when he confessed his feelings for Fredric. Ailen was very shy though, much more so than Ren had ever been, but he stared a lot. Ren thought Ailen hated him at first, because he was human, until he overheard several girls giggling in the lavatory one day and eavesdropped on them. Ailen had been seen staring at Ren's arse, and they thought it was funny.

Later, Ren confronted him, and told him he wasn't offended, that he liked boys too. Relief washed over Ailen, and the two shared a kiss in secret, hidden away in one of the drawing rooms, after the Enchanters left. But Ailen didn't seem as if he would be destined for Ren either. Theirs was a courtship also to be shortlived, like Fredric. They weren't the only ones occupying that floor, and amid kiss, Ren vaguely heard the door clicking shut.

That day was the day _everything_ changed.

"What are you doing in here?" asked a male voice, with a thick brogue.

He and Ailen broke apart in surprise and turned to see the Knight-Captain standing there, staring at them both. And that was how he would be introduced to Alec. He'd seen the Knight-Captain before of course, all of them had, but they had never spoken. Never had a reason to, and that was always a good thing, really. It was almost always a bad thing when someone was sent to the Knight-Captain, even worse if it were the Knight-Commander.

Alec was much older, about thirty, with jet black hair and bright green eyes. Very handsome, though very austere. He was from Starkhaven, served at the Circle there before being transferred to Ostwick and handed the position of Knight-Captain. They had never spoken, though Ren had seen him before, and Alec stared a lot. Moreso than most Templars that were constantly watching the apprentices while they studied.

An intimidating man. Tall, he towered over both Ren and Ailen, and the poor little elf was shaking in his boots. He stepped toward them, eyeing Ailen, and his hand had been on the dagger at his belt, so Ren reacted. He threw himself between Ailen and the Knight-Captain, which surprised him a little. The elf didn't understand, and was trying to peer around him to see the Knight-Captain, so he shoved Ailen back behind him and out of Alec's reach.

The Knight-Captain furrowed his brow, intrigued by this behavior.

Ren, the human shield, then said, "Please don't hurt him, sir. He did nothing. It was all my fault, I talked him into sneaking in here with me, and if anyone is to be punished for this, it should be me."

There was a stretch of silence as they locked eyes with one another, Ren's heart pounding in his chest, knowing not what this man might do to him, or either of them. He could trust that if he attacked, Alec would strip him of any magical ability of course, and he would be utterly defenseless, but Alec did nothing of the sort, just stared, for a moment, assessing Ren before his eyes shifted to Ailen.

"You, go," he said to the elf, who darted around Ren. As he hurried to leave, Alec grabbed his arm, not roughly, but to get his attention. "Speak to no one of this," he instructed, and Ailen mutely nodded, then left the drawing room in quiet haste. He watched the boy leave, eyes trailing after his retreating form, until he was out of the hall, leaving Ren alone with the Knight-Captain. Then he back stepped toward the door.

Ren thought he might leave him there, for a moment, until he saw him reach to bolt shut the door, locking them in. His heart pounded again, and his stomach flipped.

Slowly, he approached again, saying not a word, but just staring, pale eyes raking over every detail of him. He'd never had a man look at him like that before. It was...rather exciting, but also frightening. Though Alec no longer had his hand on his dagger, Ren instinctively backed into the desk behind him as Alec approached. He swallowed, and lowered his gaze submissively, when he pinned him to the desk.

He leaned over Ren, inches from him, trapping him with nowhere to run as he'd placed both hands palm-down, flat on the desk, and looked him over. "So you like boys, do you?" he asked, his voice low, almost a whisper, but hedged with a growl, and it made him shiver, though not from fear. Not with that sultry undertone. And that accent. _Maker_. Ren nodded a little.

"Yes, sir," he said.

"Do you like _men_?" Alec then asked.

"Aren't...aren't they the same thing, sir?" he asked. Alec chuckled a little.

"No, little lad, they're not," he said, then lifted his hand to slowly peel off a glove with his teeth, the movement distracting to Ren, and he focused on it. Then he felt fingers ghost his skin, lightly caressing his jaw, and he almost jumped at the touch. "They're not the same," Alec told him. "See, boys are curious, but _men_...men, on the other hand, they know how to treat you proper, little lad." His hand slid down Ren's neck, then to his collar.

His breath hitched a little when he realized Alec's intent.

"I uh, I've never been with a man before," Ren said nervously.

"Do you want to be?" Alec asked him.

He was not wearing his apprentice robes that moment, but only wore a thin cotton tunic and trousers with his boots. He'd planned to seduce little Ailen that evening, but it seemed the Maker had other plans, as he was now getting a taste of his own medicine. Alec's touch moved from his collar, down his chest and to his abdomen, before he gently lifted the hem of his shirt. "Would you like to feel what a _man_ can make you feel, little lad?"

Ren's heart pounded at the question. He'd fantasized of little else. But now _this_ , this was _utterly_ forbidden. The Templars were to remain vigilant, a steady presence to both protect mages from themselves or others, and keep their distance. Their duties were to guard them. Not touch apprentices like this. But Maker did Ren so want to be touched. He gasped a little when Alec moved to brush his ear with his mouth, then leaned in to kiss his neck.

"Are-aren't we not supposed to be doing this, sir?" he asked breathlessly.

"Oh, you just let _me_ worry about that," Alec purred in his ear. "You're safe with me."

Alec's hand slipped out of his shirt and down to his crotch, and Ren started to grow hard at the touch, the way his hand palmed his groin and groped, head rearing back and so the Knight-Captain took that opportunity to graze his neck with further touch, making Ren sigh in response. But this was wrong, wasn't it? Felt so right, but this would surely lead to bad things. "B-but sir," he gasped. "Won't I get you into trouble?"

"No one will ever know, little lad," he assured. "And my men won't be passing by this hall on patrol for another hour or so. No one'll find us here." He rubbed a little more vigorously with his hand, Ren's cock now completely hard, straining against his pants, starting to leak a little. Alec groaned against his neck. "If you don't want me, little lad, I'll leave you be, but I can tell you do. You want it, don't you?"

"Oh yes _sir_ ," he exhaled, finally tearing his hands away from where they gripped the desk white-knuckled to move aside the cloth covering Alec's trousers, and fumbled with the laces of them, feeling Alec's own erection bulging. His mouth watered at the thought of it, and so after undoing Alec's laces and freeing his cock to fit in Ren's hand he slipped down to his knees and sucked.

It tasted strange, not quite what he expected, but it tasted good, so he took it all in his mouth, all the way to the hilt, hearing Alec groan in approval above him. "Maker's breath," he heard, as Alec braced himself against the desk. "Oh, you know _exactly_ what you want, don't you, little lad?" he asked. He did. He'd imagined this many times. He voiced his pleasure by whimpering a little around his cock.

He felt Alec's hand touch the back of his head, fingers carding his hair, though not forcing him to move how he wanted him to move. But letting Ren have that control. He found a sensible rhythm as he stroked with his hand and sucked, hearing, "Oh, that's it, lad. Like that." No, Ren wouldn't be stuck wondering if he was pleasing Alec, would he? For he was sure to vocalize his pleasure, if his rock hard throbbing cock was no indication.

And it only heightened Ren's own arousal, made him eager to be pleased as well. After a few minutes of torturous foreplay, Alec's grip on him got tighter, and he started thrusting into his mouth, then asked, "If you wanted my cock in your mouth, little lad, I wonder, do you want it in other places?" Ren brimmed with lust in response, and trembled in anticipation at the thought, as he continued to throb. He pulled away from Alec.

"Yes sir," he answered, perhaps a bit too readily, quite desperate, more so than he'd intended to sound, though it only made Alec smile a little, biting his lip.

"On your feet then, lad, and take your clothes off," he said. And Ren was only too eager to do so at those words. Though he was nervous, a little, feeling a bit vulnerable again just then, as Alec didn't take his eyes off him the whole while he quickly undressed, pools of green heavy lidded with lust. When he was naked before the man, he seated Ren on the surface of the desk, and pushed him to lie back with his hand.

He took his other glove off, and warm calloused hands caressed his thighs before spreading them farther apart, pulling him closer, his cock at the perfect level to rest over Ren's own, slick still from his mouth. Alec was in no hurry, gazing lustfully down on Ren while he touched, caressed and admired Ren from above. Ren had never before considered his own physical appeal in too great of detail, but Alec's eyes said he thought him beautiful.

That was why he stared so much. This man had admired him from afar, but kept his lust hidden, for obvious reasons, mainly because he didn't know Ren would show interest. But now, now he touched, and admired, unabashedly, before bringing his hand to his mouth and thoroughly coating a finger with saliva, making Ren whimper longingly at the sight of it, before he was rewarded with it pressed against his entrance.

Alec was a patient man, gentle with his prodding, allowing Ren to grow accustomed to it. Not that it wasn't any sort of exploration he'd already done on his own in the middle of the night, quietly masturbating to such an image above him, though he'd never fantasized about Alec himself. His finger made slow circles around his entrance, and Ren's eyes fluttered shut. He forced himself to relax, but it was difficult, as he was so tight from arousal, reflexively clenching.

But once he did, Alec seized opportunity and pressed his finger in, making Ren gasp.

"Oh, little lad," he heard Alec moan. "Now _that's_ a beautiful sight."

He gave Ren more time to adjust to the invasion, slowly sliding in and out, delving deeper each time he inserted, until one particular thrust hit a spot within that nearly made Ren cry out, panting, fighting to keep from making a sound, lest they be heard. Oh and how he ached with need at that final prod, starting to rock into Alec's hand. He picked up pace, finger consistently hitting that same spot, keeping him sated.

But he wanted more. He wanted the hardened cock that rested near his own, he wanted it inside of him. He knew it would hurt, he'd never had something so big before, but he wanted it. He wanted to know how it felt throbbing in him. He wanted Alec badly at that moment, wanted to please him too. Up until then, he'd allowed Alec to do as he pleased, simply basked in the attention, but now he reached for him, gripping his cock tight in hand.

Alec faltered a little, absorbed in the feel of Ren's hand jerking him off, and his eyes rolled closed. "Maker, you want it, don't you, lad?" he asked, his finger reaching in as far as it would go, and Ren's only reply to the question was a sharp gasp, and more vigorous strokes with his hand, as he hadn't the will to speak. But he did. He wanted it so _bad_. And as close as he'd driven Ren to the edge, it was amazing Alec had managed to wait this long.

But finally he couldn't take it anymore, and withdrew his hand, and his cock, leaving Ren to bemoan the loss of contact, but not for long. He spit into his hand for somewhat sufficient lubrication, then after application, he pushed Ren's legs up and grasped his hips, strong hands providing support in a more advantageous position, the tip of him hovering over his entrance. "Guide me in, little lad," he commanded softly.

"Mmh, yes sir," he complied, though his voice dripped with lust, and this pleased Alec, who cracked a smile. Propping himself on an elbow, he reached for his cock once more and pressed the tip to his entrance, though only to massage his rear at first, until he was certain he was ready for it, then, as instructed, he attempted to guide him in, inhaling sharply at the feel of the head pushing past any resistance.

On instinct he'd clenched tightly and fought for a moment to stay lax, because tightening around him had caused a mode of pain. Heart thumping wildly in his chest, he allowed Alec to penetrate, slowly, mere fractions of an inch at a time.

"Oh, that's it, lad, just a little more," he said when he was close to filling him completely. But it was too much. Too much at once that invoked a pain and a pleasure like he'd never experienced, and a tendril of magic weaseled its way down there to numb it all.

"Maker's breath, lad," Alec shuddered at the feel of the tingling magic hitting his shaft, and Ren froze in a panic.

"I'm sorry, sir," he said, though not knowing what to do, or how to make it stop, but Alec shook his head, then steadily thrust until his cock was as deep as it could go with a groan. Ren's head reared back in a wave of pleasure to outmatch the one before.

"Oh don't you ever be sorry for this, lad," Alec told him. "It feels _amazing_."

"I don't... _ah!_...I don't want to hurt you, sir," he managed to say, as if that might suffice. In truth, he didn't, and really didn't want to think what might happen had he accidentally electrocuted the man instead. Alec chuckled, his laughter almost a comfort to Ren at the moment.

"You can't hurt me lad," he said, then thrust once, deeper. "Not unless you make me stop now."

"Oh, please don't stop," Ren begged, and Alec gave a contended hum. Then proceeded to give Ren precisely what he wanted, and started to fuck him on that desk. He very nearly vibrated with the steady thrum of magic that intertwined them, along with the pleasure of Alec's cock, and soon Ren gripped his own neglected one in hand and stroked, finding a rhythm that suited perfectly. Maker, but if he wasn't so close already. He could feel it.

He was shaking, desperate to come, though he didn't know if Alec would be pleased by this, not wanting to spill so soon like the bumbling adolescent he was, and seem the fool, until he heard, "Maker, _yes_ , come for me, little lad," in equal desperation. And the sound of his voice only made him want it more, made everything clench tightly, so close it almost hurt, some mix between that and absolute bliss, until he simply couldn't take it anymore.

He burst, and white hot seed spilled out over his stomach, leaving him breathless, and gasping for air, more sensitive now than before to the feel of Alec's cock inside him. And as if it couldn't be enticing enough, Alec reached to swipe a bit of his seed with his finger and suck it off, delighting in the taste of it, making Ren's eyes widen at the sight. It was sordid, and alluring, and if he hadn't come already, he would've.

And then he pushed Ren’s legs farther apart, so that his knees were nearly touching the desk, and fucked harder, Ren doing his best to brace himself and take it, a hapless mess of sweat and tears and pain mixed with pleasure beyond his imagining. He heard, "You want me to come for you, lad? Tell me you want it. I want to hear you say it."

"Maker _yes_ ," he sobbed. "Come for me, _please_."

And that he did. After several more thrusts, he felt the man's grip tighten and within seconds felt everything he had pouring into him, warm and throbbing. Vivid green eyes rolled to the back of his head, mouth open, expression almost pained, but beautiful. His movements stilled then, and Ren relaxed against the desk, still gasping, trembling from head to toe, and how Alec was still standing after that, one could only wonder.

Apparently a Templar's resolve was not only limited to their guardianship.

But he did slump, putting more weight on the desk, leaning over Ren, chuckling a little. Then he let out a sigh. After a minute or so, having had time to soften, he slowly pulled out, but didn't let Ren up from the desk just yet. He retrieved a handkerchief from his person and proceeded to clean them up first, and only then would he let him up, helping him to stand. "Easy does it now, little lad," he said softly, as Ren was still rather weak.

He could do no more than slump against the desk at first, wobbly on his two legs, while Alec situated himself properly. Then he even helped him dress, picking up his clothes from the floor, handing him his shirt, helping to put it on. They were silent while he dressed, and after the high of his orgasm started to wear away, reality kicked in, and he was exceedingly blank, as far as coming up with anything to say in regards to this.

"There you are, lad," Alec told him when he was dressed. Then he caressed his cheek. "Why don't you come to my quarters later tonight," he said. "After the eighth bell, wait for my night patrol to pass by and it's a clear shot to my room from there. I'll keep my door unlocked for you."

"Alright," he mumbled, still partially lightheaded at the moment, mind swimming from the sex and the gravity of this situation. He'd just been had by a _Templar_ , and was now invited for seconds later that night. He didn't really know what to say or do with this man by means of parting, so he simply shuffled his feet toward the door, but Alec stopped him, one last time, curling his arm around his waist.

"Now, don't you go bothering those young boys anymore, lad," he said. "Let a man take care of you."

"Yes sir," he said, and left the room.

He remembered feeling tangled up in knots the whole rest of the day. He'd went straight to the bathing rooms after that, to clean himself properly and rid himself of the stench of sex, as to not be found out. Then he just hid there, for a while, contemplating the whole affair. His little elf Ailen had found him there, and asked if they were in trouble. Ren told him no, but they couldn't see each other anymore. They might get caught.

They left together, Ailen having a mix of disappointment and irritation clouding his features when they passed by Templars, and one of them was _Alec_. Their eyes met. Alec winked, and Ren chewed his lip, glancing away, trying to hide just how that made him feel. Because it made him feel _good_. Made him feel _wanted_. And he liked that feeling. And as strange as it may seem, Alec made him feel secure, like no one else had.

He always did, when they were together. He made Ren feel safe, though he'd come to understand that if he wanted, Alec could obliterate him, at any moment. But maybe it was several factors that made him comfortable. The fact that they maintained somewhat of a distance throughout the day, that it kept him from getting too close, or that it was because he was Knight-Captain, and would only answer to the Knight-Commander directly.

Alec was in control, and Ren was willing to relinquish that control, in order to preserve what they had. He wouldn't call it love, not at first, though it was certainly devotion. No one shared the Captain's bed but him. There was no one else among the Circle that he would steal glances for, and no one else that made him briefly catch his bottom lip between his teeth in the way that Ren did. There was no one else.

But Alec had been a Templar, and there was a price to be paid for taking such risks. A steep price.

Ren sighed as he thought about it that night in the Chantry at Haven. Cullen rather reminded Ren of Alec in some aspects. Or, at least, Cullen catching him in the study earlier in the day rather reminded Ren of Alec. His stomach flipped at such thoughts. He would be absolutely daft if he thought it a wise idea to get himself wrapped up in another man, especially at a time like this, with the Breach in the sky. But...this was not the Circle at Ostwick.

This was Haven.

This was the Inquisition.

There were no more Circles, and Cullen was no longer a Templar.

Ren's life was no longer defined by stone walls and iron bars. There wasn't even a lock on his door. He was free to come and go as he pleased.

It gave him hope....and here, there was _nothing_ to stop him from having hope. Hope for something more. With no Circles, he wondered if he could ever one day entertain the idea of being in love.

Of course, he doubted it would ever be with a man like Cullen. But one could dream, at least. And so Ren did, when he finally fell asleep.

 


	3. Male Hawke/Fenris Modern AU (M/M)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: body wash does not make for fun times, but anything is possible in a fictional world. js.

Hawke had not been home for several days.   
  
His ever faithful lover, Fenris, was not happy about this.   
  
Of course, he was rarely ever happy, had quite a lot of things to fuss over on a daily basis, but this fact in particular made him extra moody. Hawke was the one thing that actually made him happy. The one good thing in his life, after a trainwreck of bad. He hated being without him for too long. Especially now that he was working with some new organization that screened all of his private calls, for security reasons, they said.  
  
Which meant no private conversations, much less had he been blessed with some kinky sex talk over the phone. It had been a very long week, and Fenris was anxious when he heard the cab pull into the driveway out front.  
  
And so when Hawke finally came striding through the door, closed it behind him and proceeded to pry his jacket from his shoulders as if exhausted, then scrounge his pockets for his keys to hang them on the hook, Fenris was waiting to surprise him, watching from behind the door. Hawke didn't even call for him. Fenris folded his arms, pursed his lips, and glared at the back of Hawke's head. He hated being overlooked.  
  
"Gone a lot longer than you expected, eh?" he asked, causing Hawke to jump out of his skin in surprise.   
  
"Bloody Void, Fen, don't do that to me," he said with a chuckle, breathing a sigh and leaning in to give a quick peck on the lips before simultaneously setting aside his keys and kicking off his shoes. "I'm sorry I was gone so long this time, darling," he apologized, albeit in a distracted manner, busy with hanging his jacket up.   
  
Fenris folded his arms. "Oh it's no worry, it's not like you've been gone for days and when you come back all I get is a little peck," he derided sarcastically. Hawke squeezed his eyes shut remorsefully.   
  
"I'm sorry," he said again, and with a sigh he pulled Fenris into a hug, kissing his neck, then cheek, and finally his mouth, pressing against his lips with a little more earnest this time. Then he squeezed him tightly.   
  
"How was your flight?" Fenris asked, trying to mask his irritation.   
  
"Long," Hawke replied. "Long and lonely." He nuzzled Fenris affectionately, breathing a sigh. Then he pulled away a little to look him in the eye. Hawke had circles under his, as if he hadn't slept. He felt slightly guilty for being cross with him upon seeing that.  
  
"You look like shit," Fenris then blurted, and Hawke snorted.   
  
"I bet I do. I've been so stressed ever since I got involved with this Inquisition mess. It's got my head all over the place. But Varric really thinks Lavellan can help us crack the case with the Wardens. I really did miss you," he muttered.   
  
He gave Fenris another light peck, but this time a soft and rather tender kiss.   
  
"I missed you very much. How have things been at home?" Hawke asked when he pulled away, shrugged his pistol holster, laid it aside, and started unpacking his briefcase.   
  
"Boring. Everybody's been busy. No one's been by."   
  
"Hardly surprising," Hawke remarked as he flipped through case files.   
  
Not back home two minutes and already he was back on the job. It never stopped with him. A civil war couldn't stop this man, so a little jet lag would hardly phase him either. Especially when a case was nearly closed. Fenris rolled his eyes.   
  
"With Merril back with her family, Izzy back at sea, and so much still going on here in Kirkwall I bet it's been quiet around the house." He let out a sigh, closed the file folder and let it flop on the table, rubbing his eyes. "I haven't had a shower since I left. That's how busy I've been."   
  
"So that's what the smell is," Fenris quipped. Hawke chuckled.   
  
"I was going for the sexy sweaty construction worker angle."   
  
"Well you shot past that and just went straight to sweaty construction worker," Fenris told him, waving a hand in front of his face, mocking disdain, but smiling a little. Then he grabbed Hawke's hand. "Come on then, to the shower with you."   
  
Fenris hung back a little while they made their way down the hall, as Hawke removed his tie, then began unbuttoning his shirt then tossing it carelessly aside. Revealing sinewy muscle hidden beneath a white under shirt, said shirt lifted over his head shortly after. Venedhis, that man was sexy. It made every other thought leave Fenris's head when Hawke began undressing.   
  
Belt came after, then slacks, and by the time they hit the bathroom he was in nothing but boxers and socks, while Fenris was starting to get hard just looking at him. Why, he was even wearing Fenris's favorite underwear, with the blue stripes that made his ass look fantastic. Admittedly, Fenris was also wearing the boxer briefs Hawke liked on him, the red ones. Fresh out of the wash for when his lover got home.   
  
He wasn't good at sexy or romantic surprises, but at least he knew what Hawke liked and tried to do those little things that counted. Hawke didn't bother to shut the door when he showered-he never did. What was the point? So Fenris leaned against the door frame and watched as he stripped the rest of the way down and stepped in under the steaming hot water, fogging the room. Then he drummed his fingers on his arm.   
  
"So what's Lavellan like?" He absently questioned, curious about her. He heard things about her, everybody had. Hawke made a sneezing sound, like he was blowing water out of his nose.   
  
"Eh, she's not so bad. I mean, the media makes her out to be some sort of communist, but in person she's just sort of...normal I suppose. Just another person trying to do the right thing when it actually matters. I think she may actually be pretty good for the job. Though I wonder about that committee of hers. They give me a bad feeling. Might have to look into some of them."   
  
_Mental note: voice search 'communism',_ Fenris thought. "I heard Rutherford's involved. How's that working out?"   
  
"Well, he's got all of his fingers and toes. Not sure about his _balls_ though. From the looks of it, Lavellan's got em in a jar tucked in her office," he joked. "She has that man whipped, and following her around like lost little puppy. But he's gotten off the blue, and he's not flashing that badge of his around quite as much as he used to. I think he's finally starting to get his shit together. Even apologized to me."   
  
Fenris snorted. Then he bit the inside of his cheek, fidgeting where he stood. Hawke was just behind the curtain, stark naked, and they hadn't seen each other in days.   
  
Yes, he was tired, but...maybe he would want some company? Perhaps some assistance? Fenris certainly did. He was dying for attention, but was trying not to be too pushy about it. He hated trying to have small talk, or ask Hawke about his job but, well at least he made the effort. Now to the fun part of the relationship. Quickly and quietly he unbuckled his belt and slipped out of his trousers and underwear.   
  
Then he snuck in behind him.   
  
He startled Hawke a little when his fingers lightly brushed his back, but then he let out a sigh of relief when Fenris started to massage his lower back, bracing with his forearms and relaxing against the wall, head dropping, groaning. "Maker...Fen..." He murmured.   
  
"I know you're probably tired and all," Fenris said quietly, "But I haven't seen you in days and-"   
  
"I think I know where you're going with that," Hawke said with a bit of a laugh. "I'm not _that_ tired," he then said, rather huskily, slowly turning around to tower over Fenris. He wasn't particularly short for an elf, but being with a Ferelden man, who weren't usually known for their lack in height, this one being a few inches taller always made him feel short. He didn't mind that much though. Being shorter had its advantages.   
  
Hawke cupped his cheek, leaned in, and swept him into a kiss, this time not pulling away abruptly. Mind solely focused on them, and not whatever was waiting out there, beyond their little corner of the world. This was no light peck, no half-kiss, but full, raging passion, and Fenris exhaled, letting Hawke sweep his lips with his tongue before taking the plunge.   
  
Each time his tongue darted in and out he hardened and twitched, throbbing with arousal. Hawke's breath hitched in his mouth, like a hiss, obviously equally enamoured by it. Then Hawke whispered, "Tell me what you want." Fenris exhaled and closed his eyes, completely enthralled whenever he heard those words. He groaned when Hawke began sucking at his neck while he patiently waited for a response.   
  
Hawke knew about his troubled past, and his previous relationship with an abusive control freak. So domineering and mistrustful of Fenris, and he honestly felt like he was a _slave_ to their whims. Sometimes he still wasn't completely over it and his lover knew that. Hawke didn't mind letting Fenris take control, wanted him to feel free, trusted, and cared for. Wanted him to feel safe and secure.   
  
This was one of the many little ways he tried to do so, by letting Fenris take control of their sex and dictating how he wanted it. Fenris hummed when he heard those words, mulling it over. It couldn't hurt just this once to let Hawke have his way.  
  
Just knowing he had a say in the matter and that it was his decision to make made him feel at ease. Everything felt so out if control lately, with this new Inquisition agency practically taking over after the Breach nearly destroyed Thedas, and this moment was their one saving grace. The one thing they could control. He searched for Hawke's mouth, coaxing it back to his, then gently nipped at Hawke's lower lip as he made up his mind.   
  
"How about...we do whatever _you_ want this time," he answered.   
  
"Are you sure?" Hawke asked, and Fenris nodded.   
  
"Whatever you want that will take your mind off work and put it on me, where it should be," Fenris told him, with a smirk. Hawke chuckled.   
  
"Trust me, my mind isn't anywhere else right now."   
  
Oh, Fenris knew that, but he still liked hearing it. Having been given permission to do as he pleased, Hawke proceeded to wrap his arms around him and kiss him passionately.   
  
It always threw Fenris for a loop that a man like Hawke would be so affectionate. You wouldn't think that an ex covert operative turned detective would be that way, but he was. At least with Fenris anyway. With everyone else he was a 'beat the shit out of them first, then ask questions' type. A 'love em and leave em'. But not with Fenris. One of the many things they had in common.   
  
With Fenris, he kissed slowly, and deeply, making his pulse race, reaching down to massage his thigh and then his ass, not roughly, but just enough to let Fenris know what he wanted. Then he slid his finger, damp from the shower, between cheeks in a long and lanquid motion, making Fenris tighten even more with arousal, as he stroked and kissed. He shivered a little, as Hawke was between him and the warm water, and Hawke noticed.   
  
He turned them both around so that Fenris was under the water, a little shocked from the abrupt change in temperature.   
  
He touched wherever he could possibly touch, wherever Hawke might possibly let him. He knew there were places he didn't particularly like. Places on his body, scars even, that reminded him of the war. The things he'd seen, the things he'd done. They were both left mentally scarred from bad memories, but somehow they could still make it work. Maybe that was why.   
  
He ran his hand up his chest, then gasped a little when Hawke spun him around, then pushed him up against the wall beneath the faucet. Pressing both hands against the wall above him. Hot water now streaming down on them both and Hawke's hands trailing down his back, then a kiss on his neck and shoulder. He bit a little, then scraped skin with his teeth as he pressed against Fenris's back, and wrapped his arm around him.   
  
This was probably a terrible idea. He left the lubricant in the bedroom, the top drawer of his dresser, and wouldn't the water rinse it right off, anyway? Perhaps shower sex was an illconceived notion on their part.  
  
He chuckled a little when he felt Hawke pull a way to reach for his body wash, realizing he didn't plan on just diving in immediately. He turned the spicket a little to the left so the water wouldn't rinse away the suds, then proceed to lather his back, neck and shoulders with soap, making Fenris sigh, and lean his head at the pleasurable feel of the touch. Hawke's hands massaged deep into the crevices of his back and shoulders.  
  
Sometimes he wondered, whenever Hawke decided to take him from behind, if he wasn't picturing Fenris as a woman. He'd been with women before, supposedly slept with Izzy a few times before they hooked up, or so Varric mentioned once. And Fenris was told he looked like a girl from certain angles. But whenever he reached around to massage his groin, he thought better. It was his small way of reaffirming to Fenris how he felt.  
  
Hawke wasn't pretending he was with someone else, and moaned a little when he pumped Fenris's cock a few times, just to torture him. Rest assured, Hawke enjoyed who he was with as much as his lover did. He poured more soap straight from the bottle onto his back, the liquid a cold shock compared to the water, and the warmth of Hawke's touch. Fenris hissed, then shuddered a little, before Hawke lathered his rear.  
  
Hands moving in slow circles, gently squeezing, making Fenris's head fall back in pleasure. He desperately wanted release, but he also wanted just this too. "Don't stop that," He crooned, his voice coming out in a rasp, making it obvious his gratification. Hawke listened, and continued to massage, slowly getting closer to the center. He took his time, allowing Fenris to bask in the blissful touch.  
  
Then he grazed his thumb across his hole, causing Fenris to moan. "Like that, do you?" Hawke asked, and Fenris nodded, so he continued. After a time, he heard Hawke reach for the bottle of soap again, and he was tempted to complain about him using so much of his soap for one shower, but he was too busy sharply inhaling when Hawke inserted a finger, and leizurely thrust while with his other hand he squirted more soap.  
  
He would never recommend using body wash, or any type of soap as a lubricant, but he'd done far more stupid things in the past. Someone like Izzy would probably use it, if needed. She'd try anything, with anyone, at least once. A bit of a slut, but she liked to live life to the fullest, and didn't want to regret a missed opportunity. Fenris mused upon that for a split second, before he felt Hawke nudge his backside.

Fenris hated missing oppurtunities too, when it came to Hawke.

Heads were spinning, and both were trembling with need of release. It had been awhile since Fenris allowed Hawke to penitrate, most usually opting for Hawke to take it, or for oral sex, so he expected it to hurt a little upon entry. But his lover made sure to take his sweet time preparing him, reaching around again to pump his throbbing cock as he did so. It was almost painful the torture, but endearing how patient he was.  
  
"Fuck," escaped his lips. Then, "Oh... _fuck_ ," When Hawke inserted a second finger, and after a minute or two to adjust he slipped in a third, and quickened his pace, sliding in and out faster, pumping faster, both in a synchronized rhythm, making Fenris's knees threaten to buckle. Having finally grown impatient, Hawke removed the digits and replaced them with his own member, slowly and carefully inserting.  
  
It was his turn to curse like a sailor when he slid all the way in, fully sheathed and bucked. Because it had been a while, Fenris's muscles seized, tightened upon entry and he grimaced, but when asked if he should stop, Fenris told him no. He was covered in soap, so Hawke suckled at a pointed ear, while he thrust in slow, short bursts, not drawing completely out, but staying pressed against him, and as he drew in, so did his hand around his cock.  
  
They stayed like that for a while, both driven to madness, Fenris leaning back, head brushing against Hawke's shoulder, while he pressed tightly against him, fucking him from behind. Knees growing weak, breath coming out in shallow gasps. "Fuck. You're going to hate me for this, but I can't take it anymore," he heard, then felt Hawke slowly and carefully slide out. He hissed at the sudden contraction.

"What the fuck are you doing?" he asked, but right as Hawke was turning off the faucet. Still covered in soap, he was dragged out of the shower, and into the bedroom, where he was pushed down onto the bed. The sheets were now soaked, and stuck to his back, but he'd hardly the time to complain when Hawke came crashing to him, drowning him with a deep, passionate kiss, coming to rest between his legs.

Now that they were on the bed, neither worried if their knees would give out, though Fenris was a little disappointed they didn't finish in the shower. That would've been new for them, another mark to check on their bucket list of sexual escapades. But the way Hawke had been acting since he got home, like something was on his mind, something he desperately needed a distraction from, Fen was willing to indulge the man.

Hawke wasted no time in positioning himself above his entrance, and reinserting, making Fenris gasp, but in this position he was far more comfortable, facing Hawke, and the moment it was in completely, his movement slowed to a near stand still, and he broke the kiss. "Tell me what you want, Fen," he requested again as he slowly thrust, and his eyes fluttered shut. In this position, Hawke easily found that spot right away and he was so close to release.

"Tell me, please," Hawke begged. But Fen didn't know what to say. He had exactly what he wanted right now. He had Hawke in his arms. What more could he want?

"I want you," he said, then hitched a breath, when once more Hawke thrust deeply. "I-I want to come, I want you to- _ah!_ " Words were further halted as Hawke reached down and lifted his thighs, positioning him perfectly, his release now building, and he clenched tightly. Fen's heart raced in his chest, pounding furiously against his ribs as he got closer and closer, until finally it came, so intensely he actually pushed Hawke out of him.

"Fuck," he said as he throbbed, falling limp, and riding the high of his orgasm. Hawke had been only moments from his own release, and he felt the hot liquid spill over him, and heard an echo of his own seedy word mirrored back at him. Then his lover collapsed, and breathed heavily into his shoulder.

He loved this. So much. Loved being with a man that didn't wish to hurt him, and even when allowed to take control for a change, still yet he wanted to please. He just wanted to stay like this forever. "I love you," he blurted, and his eyes snapped open just as Hawke's did.

Fenris had never said those words before now.

His heart pounded rapidly in his chest.

Above him Hawke was frozen still as a statue, staring down at him almost in disbelief, and Fenris started to panic, and started to revert inward, regretting having spoken. Hawke didn't feel the same, apparently. He moved to sit up and scoot away from him, feeling unbearably self conscious then, and folded his arms, ducking his chin, unable to make eye contact with Hawke. He felt the man shift and move away, leaving the bed.

Most of the soap and water had worn off during the act, but Fen was still moist, and shivering now, so he grabbed the blanket and wrapped it around himself, absolutely hating himself while out of the corner of his eye he could see Hawke dry himself off, then pull on a pair of boxers and then a fresh pair of pants. The silence was awkward and tense for another minute, but he grew curious when he saw Hawke scrounge in the dresser.

He was searching for something.

Fen furrowed his brow and then stared in confusion when he saw Hawke clutch a tiny box in his hand that was hidden under his socks, that Fen never even knew was there. Hawke slowly approached the bed and rather shyly sat down across from Fen, who tugged his legs closer to himself and clutched them tightly. Hawke's eyes darted from Fen to the box and then back to him, before he set it down in front of him and nudged it closer.

"What is that?" he asked.

"Just...open it," Hawke said, and then held his breath, nervously fidgeting, and then scratching the back of his head, while Fenris carefully reached for the little box. Then he slowly opened it. Then furrowed his brow again.

It was a ring. He glanced up at Hawke.

"Will you marry me?" Hawke asked him, and he nearly dropped the box in his surprise. Fenris scrambled to his knees. "I-I've had that for a while now. I wasn't going to-I mean I didn't-" He swallowed. "I was going to wait til after I got back from the Approach, but I didn't want to wait, but I wasn't sure if I would ever..." He sighed, and scrubbed his face. "This wasn't what I'd planned. But I wasn't sure how you felt, and I didn't want to rush things, or-"

"I don't understand," Fenris told him.

Hawke swallowed again, staring down at his lap. "I love you too, Fen," he admitted. "Very much, and I want to spend the rest of my life with you. The Wardens are doing very dangerous things in the Approach. Maker only knows what might happen, and I might not...Even if you don't say yes, I wanted you to know, in case I..." He started to tear up. "I-In case I...don't come back from this."

Fenris gaped at him in shock when he realized what Hawke just said. He was saying he thought he might not make it out alive. He was asking him to marry him before it was too late. He was saying he _loved_ him. That he _did_ feel the same. Fenris scrambled to get closer to Hawke and straddled him, kissing him passionately, catching the man by surprise. "Of course I will," he said between kisses. "Come on, let's go. Right now. Get dressed," he said excitedly.

Hawke gaped at him. "Right _now_?"

"Right now," he repeated. "I think we've both waited long enough. And we'll have a honeymoon, when you get back, because you _will_ be coming back Garret Hawke, or so help me Maker I will drag you back from the Void myself."

There were tears in his eyes just then, but not from sadness. He smiled, and Fenris' heart melted all over again at that smile.

"But when we get back tonight, I want a _preview_ ," he told him, grinning. "And then a proper shower."

"Alright then," Hawke chuckled, and both rushed to get dressed. "Whatever you want, my love."

Fenris smiled. He could get used to hearing that.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt was Geralt with any male character. So...this happened. I may go back and redo some of it later, but for now, I'm so done with fidgeting with bits and pieces of it. Hopefully it's alright.

Geralt eyed his companion. He hadn’t exactly chosen him to travel with, rather the man started following him a month earlier. He’d been tasked with slaying some beasts that had ravaged the small village, if it could even be called such. Kid lost his parents in the attack, but instead of blaming him for it like most had happily done, he’d taken to following him, regardless of what he said or did to try and chase him off. Wanted to learn how to fight, but he hadn’t quite so readily given in. He recalled his parents had very little, a small, dying farm, but somehow, he’d managed to pay for his room whenever they stopped somewhere proper, bought his food and made sure his cup didn’t run empty until he wanted it to. Probably worked the taverns long after he turned in for the night. 

 

A solid month of no pleasurable company, and a kid who didn’t know any better than to leave him alone. All in all, it was a wonder he managed to stay as pleasant as he was. He sat in the bath, one of the few places he could get some sort of privacy, trying to focus more on how nice the heat felt on aching muscles and fresh, still healing wounds. Much as he’d like anyone else on his mind, he hadn’t readily managed to conjure up anything but him, staring at him like he had. The mind was a humorless thing at times, he hadn’t ever really found himself drawn to men in the same way he was to women. Likely a result of just how it felt to go without for so long, he grimaced at the way it was provoking an actual response. 

 

He supposed if he really thought about it, he wasn’t really a bad looking man, grey eyes and a tumble of chestnut hair that stopped at the base of his neck. A little shorter, thin, but not starving, though much of his slim build appeared to be muscle earned from trying to breathe life into the fields. Really, he wasn’t bad in any sense of the word. Bit too trusting at times, but otherwise, there wasn’t a whole lot to complain about. 

 

“Kid.” He called out. “Come here.”

 

He heard him spring off the bed, quick, thumping steps across the wooden floor, creaking just outside. Walking over to the bath, Geralt watched his eyes wander over his chest and down before flicking back up to meet his eyes. 

 

“It’s Viska.” He reminded him quietly. “What did you need?”

 

He could smell the polish on him. He’d set about to polishing his swords again, despite being told he could very well do it himself. An ironic thing to consider, in his current state. Rather than admonishing him for it yet again, he leaned forward, nodding towards his back. 

 

“Figured you asked to help I don’t know how many times, might as well help.” Geralt told him. 

 

Viska knelt behind the basin, lathering the soap in his hands before he reached for his shoulders. Top down seemed a good place to start, though he had to wonder if it didn’t burn some of the fresher wounds. 

 

“Does it hurt?” he asked.

 

“No. I’m used to it. Don’t have to be so gentle, you won’t break anything.” he said. 

 

Nodding slowly, he pressed his fingers in a little harder, almost as much a massage as an attempt to wash up. His head dropped to his chest and he groaned, a deep sound, rough around the edges. Viska liked that sound. Never particularly felt like telling him such a thing, seemed a good way to ensure he definitely wouldn’t consider teaching him. Then again, he liked most things about him. Geralt was strong, tough, handsome, and plenty of other things he both admired and found himself attracted to. That, combined with the brief glimpse he’d allowed himself, odds were good he was probably thinking of some pretty girl he’d seen or someone he must have known before he’d met him, but he hadn’t exactly tried to hide his... _ situation. _ Viska swallowed as quietly as he could manage, breathing slowly in the hopes his heightened senses hadn’t picked up on that. 

 

“Your hands are shaking. Scared or cold?” Geralt noted curiously. 

 

“Cold.” he lied. 

 

“You sure about that?” he asked again. 

 

Of course he knew that was a lie, he wasn’t good about covering it up. Instead, he washed the soap off his hands, rolling his sleeves down. Making a hasty retreat back to the sleeping area, Geralt splashed down into the water, starting to go tepid, but not nearly cold. The room itself was kept warm with a fire, glowing and flickering against the stone with the occasional pop, heard clearly throughout the room. Nicer than most of the places they’d stayed, but not quite as fancy as those near or inside cities. Standing up slowly, he grabbed his armor, toting it under his arm. He rarely bothered dressing right off, though he was accustomed to being alone, it didn’t really bother him. Kid didn’t like it, he didn’t have to look. He chose to stay, not like he had ever actually been invited. Still though, he was familiar enough to him by now, that he didn’t particularly find his company unpleasant or intrusive anymore.

 

Viska hadn’t said a word, sneaking quick glances from time to time though, quick to pull the blanket over himself when he noticed Geralt watching him, studying him surely. He looked away, quick to blow the candles out on his side, half the room darkened save for the flickering fire. 

 

“If it’s bothering you that much, I’m sure one of the women downstairs would spend a little time with you.” Geralt noted. 

 

Viska snorted, more to himself than anything. “Not interested.”

 

“That certainly explains a few things.” Geralt sighed. 

 

So the kid wasn’t interested. Made sense, used to being kept busy with work. Probably still thinking about the loss of his home, his family. 

 

“I like men.” Viska said finally. “Women don’t...I mean…” 

 

“That why you’ve been looking?” he asked. “Several times, I’ve seen you.”

 

He’d been caught after all. He didn’t seem upset about it at least, a good thing. Maybe he was lucky enough to avoid being forced to part ways. On the contrary, he seemed almost...curious. Interested, if he dared to think so boldly. 

 

Viska wasn’t quite sure about admitting to such a thing, could be a trick. Still, he probably already knew. “You’re very handsome. I can’t help but look, but I suspect you hear that often.”

“Only from women, so far.” Geralt said. 

 

Maybe it was the move of someone who was finally tired of being so pent up. Maybe the kid had sparked some kind of interest he was unaware he had. Either way, no point in not trying. 

 

“You’ve chased plenty off. I’d say it’s time you do something about that.” He told him. 

 

“Me, sir?” he asked, almost in disbelief. 

 

“Don’t see anyone else in this room.” he said. 

 

Viska couldn’t believe the offer. He imagined that included an option for backing down. Maybe going downstairs and trying to find a woman he might like. Making himself scarce for a while. Then again...he was already right there. Seeing him wet, soapy, naked and hard had been a brutal combination, one he thought he’d endured quite well. Viska sat up, nervously fidgeting with the edge of the blanket. He watched him lean over, digging in his pack for a few moments before he pulled out a plain looking container. He pried the top off, digging his fingers in it, generously administering it to himself with a deep, rumbling groan. Viska didn’t want to seem too eager, but he worried the offer was limited. He nervously made his way to his bed, standing there like he had completely forgotten everything he knew. He nodded to the jar, wordlessly offering it up if needed. Didn’t need much in the way of preparation, but a bit couldn’t hurt. He wasn’t exactly new to this, and while he might normally give it only a bit of effort, he thought to take a little extra time, just in case. 

 

Rose oil. No real battle application that he could think of, nor had he ever heard of a battle ending in it. Either it was something he kept on hand for his own use, or perhaps he’d had to use it on others before, he didn’t really want to know. Not important at the moment, not now, maybe not later either. Viska eased his legs around his, hesitantly holding onto his shoulders, though he didn’t seem to mind one way or the other. He glanced down, holding his breath while he slid down slowly against him. He clasped his hands at his lower back, still and unmoving until some of the discomfort wore away before he moved. Once he’d settled into a comfortable pace, Geralt moved his hands to his hips, rough fingertips sweeping over the ridges of his bones. 

 

“You alright?” he asked. 

 

“I’m fine.” Viska murmured. 

 

Geralt countered his pace, slowly at first. He wasn’t the world’s most patient person, surely, but it was taxing enough holding back. He pulled him down harder, and Viska buried his face against his neck, gasping between eager, almost breathless panting. Didn’t sound half bad, actually, he sort of liked it. Not the sort of sound he had been expecting, but softer. Viska let go of his right shoulder, curling his hand around his length with a hissing sigh, trying to follow the rhythm as best he could, easier that way then to throw it all off. His head tipped back, and Geralt went for his neck, teeth scraping and tugging firmly on his neck, peppering thoughtless little kisses over the marks. Sure, sometimes people didn’t mind a little rougher treatment, but more often than not he had to pay for that in a sense. A little concern wasn’t the end of the world, and though the kid didn’t ask for it, it almost seemed like it was a sort of instinct. 

 

“Again…” Viska groaned. “Please…”

He obliged, bucking against him harder, biting across his throat, tending the reddening marks with broad sweeps of his tongue and quick little kisses, following a path down the sides of his neck to his shoulders, his skin a canvas of faint red marks, nothing that would last too long, but hell, he wasn’t interested in giving anyone a reason to complain about his performance at least. He heard Viska’s broken murmurs, but had no time to register what he was saying before he felt the way his hips shuddered, and the rolling warmth against his stomach. Geralt glanced down for a moment, before leaning in to nip at his ear, his breath warm, enough to make him shiver. 

 

“Do you want me to stop?” He asked. 

 

Kid was young, and while his experience was largely only women, he had to imagine it wasn’t much different. Hard not to imagine Viska wouldn’t be overstimulated, shivering all over like he already was. 

 

“What about you?” he wondered. 

 

“Could hurry it up. Or I could deal with it on my own.” he shrugged. 

 

Both options were familiar to him. Part of the package with Witchers, actually. Lot of stamina, and most couldn’t handle how long he could last. He’d gotten pretty good at rushing if he had to, and had spent more time than he cared to admit tending to himself after his company tapped out. Viska seemed to be lending it some thought. It wouldn’t feel great in the morning, probably, but that wasn’t something he couldn’t handle. Viska slowly moved off his lap, groaning quietly. He stretched out in the bed for a few moments, and Geralt thought he was about to pass out, another thing he was used to. Instead, after a few moments, he sat on his knees, crossing his arms against the pillow, his legs spreading apart slowly. He looked back over his shoulder, biting his lip. 

 

“You sure?” Geralt asked. 

 

Viska nodded. He took enough time to refresh the oil, putting it back on the small table between the beds. His hands found his hips, pulling him back until he was flush with him. Easier this time, much easier, slicker and less tense than before. Despite how he appeared to be, he matched his speed, countered him perfectly this time, even added in a little twist at the back of each firm thrust. Seems he’d been paying attention to the way he had moved him earlier. Talk about figuring out which tricks to play, he was a lot sharper than he imagined. He couldn’t say how long he kept it up for, but he was actually managing to bring him pretty close, he could feel it fraying his senses, the full body rush that washed over him and left him groaning his pleasure against the back of Viska’s neck. 

 

“Teach me…” Viska begged quietly. “Please…”

 

Geralt sighed. He would pull that now. Then again, despite the situation beind so different, the kid had displayed some good observation, a willingness to muscle through discomfort, and a few other important things. He pulled him back, holding him still when he felt it hit finally, spilling into him, earning a soft moan. 

 

“Guess I could teach you a few things.” he finally relented. “First, should get someone to refill the bath with fresh water. Soaking for a bit will help. Then you should probably get some rest. Body does a lot of its best healing while you’re sleeping.” 

 

Instead, Viska buried his face in the pillow, giving it an appreciative squeeze. Geralt sighed. Definitely stubborn, but he supposed he must be pretty tired too. Better to let him rest up for a while. Geralt didn’t feel like kicking him back to his own bed, instead, opting to crawl over him towards the wall, lazily curling an arm around his waist. If he wasn’t going to use his own bed, he’d just have to deal with him then, and at the moment, he felt uncharacteristically responsible for making sure he got rest and was taken care of, at least for the time being. That or he just really liked the idea of putting off having to teach him anything. Could have been a bit of both too, probably. 

 

“Night, kid.” he said. 

 

“Viska.” he reminded him. “Night Geralt.

 

“Everyone is a kid to me.” Geralt snorted. “Witchers live a long, long time, and I’m already somewhere around 100. Lost count. You’re like what, 18, 19?” 

 

Viska stared up at him curiously, shaking his head. “I’m twenty five. Not as much a kid as you thought, at least.” 

 

He shrugged a shoulder absently. “Still. Get some sleep. Going to be an early morning if you’re expecting me to teach you anything.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> XD I wrote this at work. I'm very tired. Can has sleep?


	5. You, Me and the Stars

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahh, I liked doing this one. I live for Cullen/Lavellan <3 I was tasked with writing up something fluffy and smutty involving Cullen and Male Lavellan. As ever I'm still not completely satisfied with the end result, but I am pleased enough to call it done for now.

Cullen hadn’t been sure at first. Thought that perhaps the reason he couldn’t shake Adris Lavellan from his mind had been out of concern for him first as the Herald, then as the Inquisitor. He’d tried to figure it out while trying not to lean towards the obvious. It all changed one day, on the battlements. Adris had called him out personally, asked to speak with him, and while a part of him was hoping he might be right on the subject, practicality led him to believe it wasn’t. He’d been more of a mess than he’d seen before, all red cheeks, a wandering gaze and wringing hands. He was never nothing but sure of himself, but in that moment, tripping over his own words like that? He was adorable. That was the moment he couldn’t resist, hearing that he did indeed feel the same, he couldn’t help but kiss him. It had been strange after. Balancing the Inquisition’s needs with their new relationship had been difficult, but it wasn’t until weeks later that he finally said what was on his mind. 

 

“You’re human. I’m...not certain how well my Keeper will take that.” he admitted. “I suppose I couldn’t very well bring you home, but...I don’t want to lose you.” 

 

“I’ve been wondering about that too. How my siblings would take it. I’ve never really had an interest in relationships, and it seems I must have been writing about you a lot. They’ve begun asking questions, but so far they seem more interested in when they get to meet you.” Cullen sighed. “I...would it be possible? Would you meet them?” 

 

Adris had thought it over only a few moments before he agreed. That seemed so far off, the uncertainty of dealing with Corypheus, still so much more to do before they could really even begin to think of such things. Yet he’d already dealt with so much. More than anyone so young should have to, maybe that was why they got along so well. He’d gone through much by that age as well, and they could relate in some ways, but it was more than that. He’d fallen hard for the things he said, the things he did. He’d met elves before, both from alienages and Dalish, and most wouldn’t bother to concern themselves with the safety or care of humans, with good reason, he supposed. Humans didn’t particularly have a good record for concern of elven affairs either, but Adris wasn’t like that. He’d seen him sit with the wounded, do what he could to help. He’d tended to plenty of his soldiers, fresh from difficult missions, rescued his men from Avvar barbarians in a place even he’d rather not go, his concern for people had nothing to do with the shape of their ears. 

 

They both needed a break. That in mind, Cullen had meticulously planned out something special for an extra bit of time they had. They’d ridden out, a fair distance. In fact, back to his hometown. There was precious little there before the Blight, but there was far less now. People had left, and the village felt more like a ghost town. They’d spent a fair amount of time looking around, and he listened intently to the stories he told, the memories he shared of his youth there. They left hours later, and Adris figured that was the end of their brief respite from Skyhold. He had one last surprise planned. They stopped, and he began to make camp for the night, to his surprise. 

 

“We’re...staying?” he asked curiously. “Is...that alright? Won’t we be missed?”

 

Cullen smiled. “Skyhold won’t exactly fall apart if we’re away for one night.” 

 

He laughed quietly at that. “I think the last time I had an actual day off was only because I was unconscious. Varric has made something of a joke about how much time I spend on my back ‘catching a nap’. I can’t imagine how long it must have been since  _ your _ last day off.”

 

He thought about it for a while. Come to think of it, he really couldn’t recall either. Probably not since he himself was a child, who knew anymore.

 

Adris helped him set up the tent, a smaller one than the usual Inquisition standard, but with only the two of them, they hardly needed quite so much space. Cullen took a deep breath, enjoying the crisp, but not too cold air. It was pleasant weather, considering, Spring had gotten well underway, flowers in full bloom, and the frigid Ferelden weather had given way to more generous temperatures. Still, with the sun down, there was a slight chill, but Lavellan made quick work of starting a fire, roaring in a matter of moments. He’d have been a little bit jealous of how quickly he had managed, but then again, he was a mage, it really wasn’t a surprise. He noticed the way he shivered, just a bit, and Cullen draped an arm around him, smiling brighter when he buried his face in the crook of his shoulder, his bright eyes the only thing visible, peering into his over the ridge of fur rounding his shoulders. He blinked slowly, sitting up again long enough to look him over.

 

“You didn’t even wear your armor!” he observed. “I’m proud of you.” 

 

He kissed his brow lightly, trailing his fingers through his hair. “I’d say the same of you, but I couldn’t help but notice you  _ never _ wear armor. I think I’d worry less about you if you did. Still. This is a break for us, so I’ll let it slide for today.” 

 

Adris scooted closer, sighing when his arms circled his waist. He liked the feel of his hands, even through his gloves they were strong and warm. There was no place he felt safer than in his arms like this. He leaned in, kissing him this time, playfully nipping his lower lip. Cullen fell back with him, and he turned, his head on his chest, looking up at the sky. The stars were bright, and staring up like this, it was hard not to feel like he was home. He had seen the same stars countless times, curled up outside among the trees. 

 

“I like it here. It’s calm. I feel at peace...I’m glad you brought me.” he said. 

 

“I’m pleased you accepted my invitation. For a moment, I thought you might not.” he admitted. 

 

“I don’t see why I wouldn’t. It’s difficult enough to snag a few minutes of your time.” Adris teased. 

 

He kissed him again, allowing his hand to wander slowly down his neck, trailing slowly along his collar and down his chest. He was strong, there was no doubt in his mind about that, but it still fascinated him how small he seemed. He’d never bothered to notice these things about most people, but it was hard not to like this. He had a slim build, not uncommon with elves, but perhaps it was easier to say his bones didn’t feel quite as sturdy as those of a human, though he’d proven time and again that he was anything but breakable. Corypheus had tossed him around like he was nothing more than a toy, and yet it had barely done more than leave a constellation of bruises on his body and a few scrapes and cuts. His eyes closed, and he moaned quietly, a combination of the way his tongue felt sweeping against his, and the feel of his fingers swirling down his stomach. It was a cautious, exploratory sensation, but it threatened to cross a line they had yet to venture over. He wasn’t even sure if he was aware of it or not, honestly. 

 

This seemed a big step. Certainly it wasn’t like it had  _ never _ crossed his mind, only that he couldn’t say he’d ever been in a position to consider it very seriously. His training and his duties had always come first, and it hadn’t escaped his thoughts that if it happened, it wasn’t something to take lightly. He hesitated, his touch stopping abruptly at the edge of his tunic, breaking the kiss to try and glean what he could from watching his expression. Try as he might, Adris could never hide what he was feeling, it always showed  through his eyes, and the way his lips moved. His eyes were wide, not afraid or bothered, but more...understanding, if he had to put it to words. He seemed to understand without words what it was he was questioning, his lips trapped loosely between his teeth. 

 

“Are you alright?” Cullen asked quietly. “Is this...too much?”

 

Adris quickly shook his head, but his expression hadn’t shifted in the least. “I...I’m just thinking, that’s all.”

 

Cullen reached up, his thumb brushing over his cheek, across his lips slowly. “You can tell me anything.” 

 

“This…” he began, uncertain of where he was trying to go with it for a moment. “I care very much about you...I’ve...thought about it, a little. I’m not certain you understand what this would mean. It isn’t something to be taken lightly. My people...it’s not a lie to say it never happens -- it does, more often than you may believe. My Keeper is understanding, certainly...but there is still quite a stigma for the elf who dallies with a human. I wouldn’t be exiled from my clan, but...it is a very serious thing. As serious as being bondmates, very nearly...if we do this...I don’t know that I could let this go very easily.” 

 

“I understand. I would never rush into this without considering your feelings on the matter. It may not always seem like it, but I’m very serious about you. I’m not out to hurt you.” he said. “Whatever happens, I have no intention of giving you up. It wouldn’t be easy, I’m certain, but...we could make it work.” 

 

Adris smiled, curling his arms around his neck loosely, though his smile vanished moments later. “Cullen...are you sure you don’t mind? I know how you feel about magic, and I know we’ve discussed it before. I realize this is all new for you, but are you certain you don’t mind that I’m a mage?” 

 

He pulled off his mantle, moving away long enough to spread it out on the grass, carefully moving him to lay on it. Whether or not it went any further didn’t matter, not really. He should be comfortable, and if he wanted to stay out a while more, this was the best he could offer, short of dragging the bedroll out. 

 

“You are more than the spells you cast. My feelings haven’t changed simply because of what you are. I don’t care about the differences between us, what I care about is you, about us.” he said. 

 

He lent it a little more thought. Cullen had been nothing if not honest with him from the first time he recalled them meeting. For months now, there had even been times when he felt like he was truly the only one who cared what  _ he _ wanted, how he felt. He had believed in him unfailingly, even where others expressed doubts. Adris shrugged out of his tunic, curling it up loosely and tucking it under his head. He was nervous, and a little bit fascinated with the way his eyes slowly took in every inch of him. Of the tattoos and faint, fading scars, and little imperfections that marred his skin. He peeled off his gloves, tossing them to the side. He felt warm to the touch, a mixture of soft skin and solid muscle, at ease now, no hint of tension anymore. It was the longest they’d managed to be alone together for, and much of it was spent slipping out of clothes, appreciated slowly with soft kisses. 

 

“It isn’t too cold out for you, is it?” Adris asked curiously. “I’m used to all sorts of weather, and I know you must be too, but I worry.” 

 

His leg drew up at the knee, resting lazily against his side. Cullen drew slow circles against his hip, shaking his head slowly. 

 

“I’m fine.” he said. 

 

“Still. It won’t do if I let you get sick. Give me a moment.” Adris said. 

 

He carefully moved from under him, crawling into the tent. He had no time to question it before he crawled back out, lying back down. Wrapped together under the blanket, neither really paying attention to just how long they’d stayed like that before time seemed irrelevant, waiting any longer tossed out the window at some point. Adris couldn’t stay still. He had no experience in these matters, no more than him, surely. He settled eventually, legs loosely wrapped in his, opting to keep his eyes closed, taking a slow, deep breath, trying to stay as relaxed as he could manage, though it was a challenge not to lock up, a certain strange pressure spreading through his stomach. Cullen buried his face in the crook of his neck, vibrating against his skin. 

 

“Is it...does it hurt?” he asked worriedly. 

 

“No, not hurt.” he replied. “I...give me a moment…”

 

Cullen stopped, waiting patiently for him to adjust, only a slight nod to let him know it was fine. He drew back slowly, not quite stopping, but rather pausing when he groaned quietly. Adris mumbled something under his breath, his face flushed, bringing his legs around his waist slowly. It wasn’t a drastic difference, but enough to make it simpler to move. 

 

“Is it…” he began, his words cut away for a loud gasp, feeling the way he thumped against him harder. “Gods that…”

 

“Should I stop?” he asked. 

 

“No, don’t.” Adris told him. 

 

His fingers wove into his hair, down for once. Gently tugging his head back, he planted a line of gentle kisses up his throat, stopping on his lips again, kissing him deeply, his steadily increasing pace punctuated by muted moans, the sound lost between joined tongues. Clumsy attempts at figuring it out better as they went gave way to an increasingly confident sort of dance. Warm, everything was warm, from the heated breaths shared between them, to the feel of damp skin sliding easily under fingers. Strange how it had seemed so strange, the budding relationship between them, a cautious ascension to this, a feeling that somehow this was how it was meant to be. His hand trembled slightly, reaching for Cullen’s, nervously guiding it down past his stomach, slowing between his thighs, his eyes thinned and bright, pleading for more, without a word. 

 

His hand curled loosely, cautious at first. He adjusted slowly from there. He knew he had found the right balance when he felt his hips shudder, his nails scraping lightly at his shoulders with a sort of urgency that announced it for him. Adris arched under him, trying to figure out how best to balance everything, between accompanying the quick, shallow rhythm he’d set and the steady movement of his hand, in itself vastly different from how it felt alone. He broke the kiss, gasping to catch his breath, eyes squeezing shut. 

 

“Ir abelas, I can’t…” he managed. 

 

He hadn’t quite thought it through completely, but he had suspected it wasn’t going to be a training session in its own right, a workout, certainly, but nothing too intense, not this time at least. Neither knew what to expect, and with work keeping them busy, surely the more  _ vigorous activities _ had been quite limited, he didn’t care, it was perfect in its own way, a form of expression, and a promise of sorts. A vow that this was only the beginning of something more.

 

There was heat, and the sound of ragged breathing, an unbearable feeling that needed a way out, and then, it was gone and there was relief, and the world went still. Nothing but the flicker of thousands of stars blanketing the sky, and the sound of crickets in the distance, the slowing beat of Adris’ heart. Cullen moved to his side, his head falling almost immediately to his shoulder, and it made him feel almost protective, his arm lazily fixed around his side. 

 

“You know…” Adris began, taking a deep breath, unable to stop it from escaping as a quiet yawn. “This place is really something. It really does remind me of being home.” 

 

Cullen had meant to avoid bringing up the subject so quickly, and yet the idea of ‘home’ caused him to blurt it out thoughtlessly. 

 

“Would you...ever consider it? Staying with me, I mean…” he asked. “I...have no desire to take you from your family, and I understand that you’ll be responsible for leading your clan someday...but...I guess I just had to ask…” 

 

Adris shrugged, then nodded slowly. “I would never write it off. Anything can happen. Maybe I’m wrong and my Keeper feels that loving you is too much. Maybe I get kicked out, maybe I get replaced as First. I’ve been away for a long time. I don’t know the future.” 

 

“I hadn’t really thought much about what I would do after the Inquisition has outlived its purpose...but you’re right. It is beautiful here. Could you be happy like that, living here? We could build a small house, a place for your mounts, and maybe a mabari or two...maybe a farm…” he suggested quietly.

 

Adris put a finger to his lips, moving it away only long enough to give him a quick, gentle kiss. “Anything would be fine, so long as I have you…” 


End file.
